


got my heart again

by tsaritsas



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Like Mild Angst, Roommates, TOO MUCH, and movies and winter cuz i love that, like she's mad but its not like a Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsaritsas/pseuds/tsaritsas
Summary: Nikolai and Zoya share an apartment and they're stressed from exams so some shit goes down.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov & Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	got my heart again

It wasn’t much, just something small; it was cold on the couch of their apartment, so they shared a blanket, hot cocoa being heated on the stove. But it was cold, even for mid-December, so why not sit on the couch, heated blanket on their laps, sipping warm drinks and laughing at the dumb cliché rom-com that Nikolai had found on Netflix. They made stupid jokes as the girl pined over some boy she met at a bakery and they kissed in the rain and acted like it was some miracle that  _ he _ was the one who dumped flour all over her while she was going to work. Laughing just like friends do.

“He’s not even that good looking anyway,” Zoya commented, shoving pieces of popcorn into her mouth, “he’s ugly. He looks like the rat from that one movie.” 

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. “Ratatouille?”

“Yeah!! Honestly, she could’ve done so much better than him.” 

“You really think so?” he replied, propping his head on his hand as he turned to face her. 

She glanced in his direction and rolled her eyes, a lock of black hair falling into her face. “Trust me when I say it’s not that hard to do better than rat baker boy with stupid brown hair and an inferiority complex.” 

Nikolai moved to lay his back against the couch cushions, turning his attention back to the TV. “Whatever you say, tsaritsa.” 

Because that was what they were. Even if Zoya couldn’t stand Nikolai when he’d first moved in, even when he’d spilt her coffee time after time, and went to the shop down the street and brought Zoya her favourite order just to make up for it, even after he spent night after night keeping her up as he paced while studying history. When he was stressed about his midterm so she stayed up all night and kept him company, making jokes about whatever was on the flashcards and bringing whole pots of coffee to the couch for him, only for her to drink the majority of it. And when they both had nothing to do some nights so they sat and watched hours and hours of movies together until the sun came up and they could barely keep their eyes open. Just good friends, like Zoya claimed. 

Even when her eyes glittered in the morning sunlight and her smile brightened up his whole day, and her hair was messy and her eyes half-lidded with sleep and she still was breathtaking. When she rolled her eyes at the passerby and yelled at people who were annoying her and Nikolai felt a rush of something he couldn’t place. Even when she called him an idiot time after time, that was all they were. 

She cast a glance his way again, a look of disdain flashing over her face again. “I just don’t get how people can be that stupid.” 

Nikolai smirked, “That means nothing anymore. You say that about someone new every day.” 

“And every day, people get dumber and dumber.”

“Maybe,” he replied, taking the bowl of popcorn from her lap. She gave him a glare of betrayal. 

“Maybe one day you will comprehend the stupidity of the human race when some random lady comes up and asks you if you’re Hispanic because you’re holding a box of taco shells. However,” she mused, reaching out to ruffle his hair, his blond curls a mess from leaning on the couch for four hours. The subtle touch of her hand almost caused Nikolai’s brain to short circuit. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.” 

He sighed, “Maybe. But at least you’ll still have people to insult.” 

“I can do that no matter their intelligence, Lantsov.” 

She got off the couch to walk to the fridge, grabbing cups of coffee for both of them. He took a glance at her when her back was turned. People always talked about how she was gorgeous; whether she was in class, walking around town, dressed up nice for an event, people always stared at Zoya Nazyalensky like she was the last beautiful thing they would ever see. But that had nothing on her when she was simply in her apartment, wearing an old t-shirt, hair frizzy, no makeup. The smile on her face when she laughed at a joke and the way her eyes sparkled in the morning when she was still tired from having just been awakened made Nikolai’s whole day a thousand times better, even if she did make fun of him constantly. He stole a glance at her when she wasn’t paying attention because _ saints, _ he could look at her gorgeous blue eyes forever if he had the opportunity. Even if lately they had been shadowed and tired from the all-nighters. Exam week norms, he guessed. 

“Hey,” she suddenly called, “earth to Nikolai.” She raised an eyebrow at him from across the room. “Are you good?”

He blinked, bringing himself back to the reality he was in. “Yeah, I’m good,” he gave her a small smile, “and I’ll have my usual.”

“Too much cream with a side of too much sugar. Got it.” 

“Just because you have no soul and chug black coffee by the gallon does not mean all of us can. I’ll let you know that I happen to have self-respect.” 

“There’s a line between self-respect and thinking a mocha latte is too bitter,” she countered, setting a mug down in front of him. 

He took a sip from the mug, the five packets of sugar hitting just right. “Whatever you want, tsaritsa.”

Zoya sank back into the couch, exhaling a small “oof” as she fell into the cushions. “I hate exams,” she complained, shoving a fist down on the blanket, “and how I’m awake so much now that coffee is starting to lose its effect.” 

“It’s only two am, you know,” Nikolai suggested, “you could still get some hours in before your next class.”

She took a pillow and threw it in his face. “No, I don’t do that. Sleep is for the weak. You’re not sleeping either.” 

“I take naps at least, tsaritsa. Also, you knew what you were getting into with molecular bio. Maybe you should’ve taken a page out of my book–”

She was already asleep, chest rising and falling as she lay with her head against a throw pillow. For once, she looked peaceful, the usual crease between her eyebrows gone, usual scowl replaced with an expression of indifference. He took a blanket from the basket in the living room corner, a soft blue one he knew was her favourite and put it over her quietly, trying not to wake her. Saints only knew he next time she would get some rest. 

“You’re killing me, tsaritsa,” he said, only for himself to hear, “sweet dreams and goodnight.”

–––––

_ Oh, you have to be shitting me.  _

Zoya awoke to find herself face-first in the couch, her favourite navy blanket tucked over her shoulders, feeling…..oddly rested. The sun shone through the living room window, but despite both that and the blanket, Zoya was still freezing. 

“Hey, tsaritsa,” came from behind her. She whipped her head around to find Nikolai standing in the kitchen dressed for class in a sweater and black pants. “How’d you sleep?”

“How did I sleep?” she demanded, eyes filled with fury. “The question is how  _ long _ did I sleep? Now tell me what time it is before I come and–”

He smiled at her like he was about to start laughing. Which was to say, infuriatingly adorable. “It’s alright, tsaritsa, it’s only 8:20.” 

She sighed of relief, throwing the blanket off and starting towards the kitchen. “I need coffee,” she noted while opening the cabinet for her… “Where’s my mug, Nikolai?” 

“It’s by Keurig, so don’t worry. I’m not taking your coffee from you just yet.”

“Fuck no, you aren’t.” 

He smiled at her, hazel eyes bright. “I know,” he said it almost wistfully. 

“Oooof course you do,” she mused. She was waiting for her coffee but saints, she was cold. She had a sweatshirt last night…

On the chair. Yes.

She spotted the black sweatshirt from the kitchen and, for lack of better judgement, practically sprinted over to pick it up. She pulled the hoodie over her head and finally, after what felt like forever, felt warm. Sure, the sweatshirt felt way bigger than she remembered and fell to her knees  _ and  _ she had to pull up the sleeves if she wanted to do anything, but right now she didn’t care. She took a glance out the window at the nice winter day, a thin coat of snow coating the city sidewalk across the way. A perfect winter morning, some might call this, mainly because for once, Zoya felt at ease. 

But she had her exam today, and she knew that the feeling couldn’t last, so she turned on her heel and went back towards the kitchen to get her coffee. She walked to the counter and put her hands around the mug, warming her fingertips. She turned her attention towards the fridge, pushing up one of the sleeves to open the right-side door. 

“Hey Nikolai,” she called, “where’s the creamer?” 

No response. 

“Nikolai? If you keep hiding the creamer from me, you’re gonna regret more than you’ve ever regretted anything in your entire life-”

She looked away from the fridge to find him looking at her with wide hazel eyes, pupils dilated so you could hardly see the gold in the centre. 

“Are you okay?” 

He blinked rapidly, bringing himself back to reality. “Yeah, I’m great,” he paused, “and the creamer’s here.” He reached from the other side of the fridge to hand her the bottle. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You seem a bit insane right now.” She realized then he was giving her a look up and down. “Yes, I know, I thought this sweatshirt was smaller too. And navy and not black, but we all make mistakes,” she rolled her eyes, “so stop staring already and go to class.” 

His expression suddenly shifted, changing from shock to what looked like satisfaction. “Tsaritsa, you don’t have to tell me. I know my hoodies are comfortable, and that one is new so it’s even better. You don’t have to–”

“Excuse me–” 

“Don’t worry, tsaritsa, I have plenty of hoodies for the taking if you ever want another.” He winked. 

Zoya felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she poured the creamer into her French Roast. “In your dreams. This one just happened to be the first I saw and it won’t be happening again.” 

“Sure it won’t.” 

“Why do I let you live with me?”

“‘Cause you know you like me better than everyone else.” 

Zoya closed the lid on the creamer and set it back in the fridge. “Say that in front of Genya and she  _ and I _ will smite you.” 

“You’re not denying it.”

_ “Go take your fucking exam!” _

–––––

She was still wearing it when he returned. 

“Hey, idiot, how’d your exam go?” she called from the couch without turning around. 

Nikolai had tried and done okay. Or at least he’d done okay. As far as university exams went, that one hadn’t been too bad. But it was definitely far from stellar. His eyes hurt just trying to keep himself awake due to the lack of sleep he had gotten in the last week. “Great, tsaritsa, how about you?” 

“Great!”

No.

Zoya Nazyalensky did not answer about exams or anything, that happily. She could receive the best news of her life and keep a steady poker face during the entire interaction. She could watch 18 sad movies in a row and not act like shit happened. 

Something was very wrong. 

“Zoya, I’m gonna bring you more coffee, is that okay?”

“Nikolai, I’m fine. Don’t you have shit to do? Why don’t you go to your room and study or something?” 

“Tsaritsa, all of my exams are over,” he pointed out. “All of  _ your _ exams are over.”

Her back was turned to him, but he could tell she was tightly clutching a pillow to her chest. What had happened. “Don’t you have eight girls to text back or something?” she snapped, “and other fifteen to leave on read?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Do you have anything else you could be doing right now other than bothering me?” 

“Of course, tsaritsa, but bothering you is my favourite of those things, now isn’t it.” 

“Saints, you’re insufferable.”

“I’m your favourite.”

“Seriously,” she asked him again, “can you please just do something else?” 

At that moment, he reluctantly gave in. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Fucking finally.”

Nikolai walked across the apartment to the door of his bedroom, turning the knob on the door. Only when he turned around to shut it did he see her face, eyes rimmed with red.

–––––

He emerged from his room fifteen minutes later. Zoya rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

Nikolai didn’t say anything, just sat down next to her on the couch as [insert tv show] played in the background. He had a melancholy look in his hazel eyes that didn’t suit him, maybe because she was used to him being so cheerful. 

“Nikolai,” she asked, concerned, “what’s going on?”

He leaned back against the couch, slightly turning his head to look toward her. “How did your exam really go?”

Really, really horrible.

She avoided making eye contact with him, turning her attention back to the TV. “It went fine, I told you.” 

“No, it didn’t.”

She took a short glance at Nikolai again. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but he looked as exhausted as she fault. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders had finally relaxed for the first time since he had gotten home. He had changed from his usual pretty university student attire into a blue long sleeve shirt and grey sweatpants. His hair was a mess of gorgeous golden waves, glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. Despite his tired state, he looked almost perfect. 

“Saints, would you just leave me alone about that?” 

He opened his eyes again. “Zoya, I get if you don’t wanna talk about it and I’m not gonna ask for details. I just wanna know how it went.” 

“Why does it matter?” She rolled her eyes. “Stop pestering me. If you had just woken me up when I’d fallen asleep, as you should have, I probably would’ve done fine.”

“You would’ve done worse if you hadn’t gotten any sleep, Zoya.”

Why did he keep using her first name? “No. If I hadn’t slept, I could’ve had time to study so I could’ve known what I needed to know–”

“Don’t blame me for this. You would’ve been sleep-deprived anyway. The results wouldn’t have differed.” He sounded oddly frustrated now, considering he was not the one who would be affected by these test results.

She had been distracted this morning,  _ way too distracted _ . Firstly, she had actually fallen asleep which shaved off six hours of studying time. Second, she had taken her time  _ after _ she had gotten up because of Nikolai and his stupid sweet gestures and gorgeous hazel eyes and his annoyingly comfortable sweatshirt that she just wanted to curl up in forever. 

She closed her eyes again, blinking back the tears. For fuck’s sake she had spent weeks and weeks preparing and had a whole guide and everything and stayed up night after night reviewing everything she possibly could. She hadn’t slept for the last week except for two-hour naps here and there. And for what?

Apparently nothing. 

Zoya fake-smiled at the ceiling as she joined her roommate in sinking into the couch. “I’m screwed,” she declared, sticking up her middle finger and moving her arm lazily in the direction of the window. “Fuck you, professor Morozova!” She could hear her voice cracking as the tears threatened to spill, but she didn’t care as much as she should have. It had already been too long of a day. Suddenly though, she felt an arm come around her shoulders, and within mere moments found herself with her head resting in Nikolai’s chest. 

_ Oh.  _

She knew that she should get up, move, find any possible way out of this situation. She moved her to lift his arm from her shoulders but dropped it a second late for a reason she couldn’t exactly place. She was comfortable, and he was warm, and Zoya felt safe and secure with his arm wrapped around her. She was tired, and her day has been long, and the blanket she had was really comfortable. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all…   
  


–––––

Night had fallen by the time Nikolai opened his eyes. 

For once, it was a clear night out, and he could see a half-moon shining overhead. He cast his eyes downward to see Zoya. She was still there, surprisingly. She looked, frankly, incredibly adorable. Her hands were balled up into her chest and she lay on her side, curled up against him. Her soft black hair glowed in the moonlight, slightly messy, and Nikolai loved it with all his heart. Her eyes were closed, lashes fluttering with whatever she was dreaming of. Nikolai knew he should get up, go eat, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to awaken her. She was so stressed earlier, but that disappeared when she was in sleep. She looked, for once, at ease, and he couldn’t bring himself to take that from her. 

And so he stayed, arm around his tsaritsa as she slept. He couldn’t remember how long he had laid there with Zoya curled against him before she opened her eyes. Her blue eyes were half-lidded, the crease between her eyebrows back in place. She bolted away from him, moving to sit on the other side of the couch. Her eyes were wide.

“What time is it?” she demanded.

Nikolai turned around to look at the clock. “7:45.” 

She put her hands to her temples. “How long have I been out?”

Nikolai tried to remember when he had first lay down. “I don’t know,” he replied. It had been mid-afternoon when he had come back from his outing. “Probably four hours or so.” 

“Ugh,” she sighed, crossing her arms. She scanned him up and down before asking, “so I just fell asleep?”

“Yes, tsaritsa.” 

“Sorry, I guess,” she said, although it wasn’t all that sincere.

He smiled at her from across the couch. “Don’t be, tsaritsa.” 

She blinked, her expression changing as if she was thinking intensely about something or another. Her eyes darted from place to place, calculating whatever she was thinking about. Finally, her expression went neutral. Well, as neutral as her resting face could be for someone who hates people. 

She scooted over to his side of the couch, barely leaving any between the two of them. _Shit,_ Nikolai thought, _it’s over._ _I’m gonna have to move out. Live in a_ dorm. 

“Zoya–”

But suddenly, her lips crashed over his. 

Oh. 

He couldn’t think anymore, not about anything other than her. His mouth opened under hers, her fingers threading into his hair. He cupped her face in his hand, entangling the other in her soft black waves.  _ Saints, _ how long had he wanted this? She let his arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer onto his lap, never breaking away. He could feel his heart beating fast in his chest. 

Eventually, she broke away, her blue eyes glittering, lips red and cheeks flushed. She wrapped her arms around him tight, burying her face in his shoulder. “That meant nothing, okay?”

He put a hand in her hair, holding her close as he pulled a blanket up to cover her shoulders. “Alright, tsaritsa,” he smiled down at her, “as you wish.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 'tis me, the disappointment. im back with more disappointing shit. have fun, this is to celebrate that the horse is out of the hospital


End file.
